Moments In Time
by SquirrelWho
Summary: A woman, inconsequential at first, but over time she becomes something more. He never suspected the impact she had on his life until she was gone. Rose and Sherlock one shots, over time, and the effect that may have had. Roselock
1. Pink

This is a series of one-shots about how Rose may have found a way into Sherlock's heart over time without him realizing it. Not sure if it's going to develop into a more extended sequel or not.

In this series Sherlock exists on Pete's World.

This first one-shot happens during A Study In Pink.

* * *

There are moment. Defining moments that change everything. Moments that can impact a life so dramatically that they change someone. Then there are the more inconsequential moments. Ones that change another slowly. One moment at a time until they have changed without realizing it. This is a collection of Rose/Sherlock one-shots and how they might have changed him.

* * *

Rose trudged home. It was late, dark and she knew she ought to take a cab, knew how dangerous it was, especially the part of town she was in, but she needed a walk. She would probably find a cab eventually.

She sighed. She felt lost…alone…as if she didn't fit in. Part of her wished her dad hadn't shown up when he did. That she'd been sucked into the Void. Then maybe she wouldn't have to feel like this. Feel like her heart was ripped from her chest. She didn't even get a chance to tell him.

Noise to her right drew her attention. Her eyes fell on the skip. There was something inside of it…something alive. Her heart sped up as images raced through her mind. Cybermen, Daleks, Slitheen…then a head popped up. A man with dark curls of hair, dressed in long dark coat, blue scarf, and white button down shirt.

Sherlock glanced at the woman. Blonde hair, black trousers, pink shirt, black jacket, trainers. She was inconsequential. He glanced around the inside of the skip. The pink case wasn't there. He growled in frustration. Third skip he searched. It had to be somewhere.

"All right there, mate?" she asked.

He seemed to be looking for something, probably something his girlfriend threw out. She remembered Mickey accidentally tossing something of hers out once.

"Yes, fine," he dismissed, not even glancing at her as he climbed out of the skip.

She shrugged and continued down the alley. Sherlock watched her a moment, curious as to why she didn't ask what he was doing. Most people would. His curiosity was short lived though, his mind turning back to the problem at hand. A pink case he needed to find if he was to solve the serial murders. He turned the other way and headed out of the alley.

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Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	2. Graffiti

This one-shot happens during The Blind Banker.

* * *

Rose was on her way back to Torchwood after checking some suspicious Rift activity that turned out to be nothing. She spent most of her days at Torchwood, ever since Bad Wolf Bay. She told the Doctor how she felt and she knew he'd been about to repeat those words. That was enough to give her strength, hope. She had to find a way back.

She rounded the corner and saw a bloke, not one of the homeless she expected. He wore a long dark coat, trousers, dress shoes, and a blue scarf. Wait. He was bloke who was digging through a skip a few weeks back…or had it been months? She wasn't really sure. The days seemed to blend together.

Sherlock inspected the graffiti on the wall. Some of it had been painted over making it indecipherable. He sighed in frustration. In order to work out the code he needed more.

"I didn't figure you for a graffiti artist," a woman said, drawing his attention.

He shined his torch in her direction, making her shield her eyes. She wasn't one of the homeless. He dropped the light down, wondering what she was doing there. He'd seen her before…where? Blonde hair, blue shirt, black jacket, black trousers…then it hit him. A previous case. He saw her when he was digging through a skip in an alley looking for that pink bag.

She was smiling, but he ignored that.

"I'm looking for evidence," he replied, shining the torch around the area.

Evidence? She glanced over him. He didn't seem like someone who worked for the Yard, but then she hadn't been in that universe very long.

"What? Like spray paint cans? That sort of thing?" she asked.

"Why? Have you seen any?"

"Yeah, back that way," she pointed behind her, "Next to the tracks near the garages."

He hurried off in that direction and then paused, turning around. She was walking the way he'd come from.

"You should take care walking alone at night in this neighborhood," he warned, not entirely sure why he was saying it. He didn't worry about people. "Could be dangerous."

She grinned.

"Wouldn't that be something?"

He found himself returning her smile. Then he realized what he was doing and turned back. He needed to find that code and crack it so he could figure out who was responsible for the murders.

* * *

Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	3. Trains

Takes place toward the end of The Great Game.

* * *

Rose wondered between the train cars. She needed a break after everything. Two weeks without leaving Torchwood, working on an idea that didn't pan out was enough to send her round the bend. She saw him then. The bloke she'd seen twice over the past eight months. She wasn't sure what it was about him that made her remember him so easily. There was something.

Maybe it was his strange behavior each time. Digging through a skip in the middle of the night and then inspecting graffiti the next. He appeared to be watching something intently.

Sherlock noticed her as she approached him, but he made no indication as he watched John talk to the train worker. He already solved the case, but he wanted John to get there on his own.

"This another case or are you stalking that bloke for another reason?" she asked.

A grin threatened to surface, but he pushed it aside, keeping his eyes on John.

"I could ask you the same question," he replied.

She laughed lightly.

"You'd know if I was stalking you." He glanced at her briefly and caught the teasing smile. He blinked for a moment, not entirely sure what to do. "So, is he a suspect then?"

He glanced back at John, shaking his head to clear it.

"No…um…" _What the hell is wrong with me? _"He's my friend."

"Stalking your friend then?"

He gave her a sideways glance. Her smile was still there, making him glance away because he wasn't entirely sure what to do with that. No one smiled at him like that.

"No, he's working on a case."

Rose's smile widened, realizing what he was doing. It was something the Doctor would do.

"But you've already worked it out. You're just waiting for him to get there."

Sherlock turned to her then, not just a glance, wondering how she managed to work that out.

"How did you know?" he asked.

She shrugged, still grinning.

"I had a friend…have a friend," she corrected herself because she was getting back to him, "he's like that too."

He watched her smile slip when she corrected herself, which was just as well, even if a strange feeling of loss came over him, but he shoved that into a dark corner with other such sentiments.

"Ah," he replied, wondering about her friend, but he turned his gaze back to John. "What about you?"

"Bit of a walk to clear my head. Been working on something and it didn't turn out."

"Something to do with your friend?" he inquired, glancing at her and catching the surprise. He grinned. On the money then.

"Looks like your friend's close to figuring it out," she said, nodding toward the bloke near the tracks.

Sherlock turned his attention back to John. She was right. He glanced at her to say goodbye, but she was already walking away. He turned back to his friend and closed the distance while John was occupied.

* * *

Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	4. Confusion

Sherlock was walking back to Baker Street when he caught sight of her. She was sitting on one of the cement barricades. They were approximately a meter high, used to separate the park from the street, but she wasn't gazing at the park. She sat hunched over, writing in a notebook.

Curiosity got the better of him. He, silently, walked around the barricade and sat down next to her. She appeared to be too lost in writing to notice his presence. He glanced down, trying to get a look at what she was doing, but she paused.

"Anyone ever tell you curiosity's what got the cat?" she asked, in that voice she used for teasing.

Rose sat the notebook and pencil on her other side where he couldn't see the diagram. She heard him sit down, caught sight of the long coat she recognized from the other times she'd seen him.

Sherlock ignored her remark, though the smile she turned on him when she met his gaze was more difficult to ignore, but he kept his face impassive, taking in the dark patches of skin under her eyes that spoke of sleepless nights. He recalled what she said during their previous meeting.

"Still working on the same problem?" he inquired.

"I'll get there," she replied with stubborn determination.

"Might help to have another set of eyes look it over," he suggested.

Although he hadn't been looking for her, he knew the fact that he kept walking more often than taking cabs was because he thought he might run into her. Something he would, of course, never admit to.

There was something about her that puzzled him. Not only the way she understood why he was allowing John to work on that case alone, but also the way she looked at him. That puzzle didn't begin until last month, after Belgravia, after The Woman.

Irene had brought about feelings he usually repressed, but then she manipulated people for her livelihood. She knew exactly how to read people, pick out their weaknesses, and use them, not that he faulted her for that. It was something he was inclined to do, but the woman sitting next to him was different. She seemed to be Ms. Adler's opposite, judging from what he knew, which, in fact, wasn't much.

From the handful of meetings he could deduce very little because she had given him very little. Though, she hadn't asked anything from him. In fact she helped him on that banker case, albeit slight help.

"Might do," she replied. He repressed the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. "I've had the people who're helping me look it over, but, you're right, I should probably bring someone else down to give it a go."

The smile that wanted to form vanished as his brows drew together. He expected her to let him see the diagram, but she was talking about having someone else look at it. _People who are helping her? _So, whatever she was working on she wasn't doing it alone. He thought back to their last meeting. She said whatever she was working on was meant to help her friend.

"I would be willing to take a look at it," he said, deciding on the direct approach, believing that she might've misunderstood his previous suggestion.

She grinned. He returned it, thinking she was about to reward him with her diagram.

"It's not really your area, Sherlock."

He paused both at the use of his name, though that wore off a moment later when he remembered John's blog, which had gotten him more publicity than he liked, and at her implication.

"And what exactly do you know about _my area_?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion because she knew who he was, but she didn't want his help, which probably meant she formed an opinion of him, as others had and he was about to find out exactly what her opinion was.

She bit her lip in a way that somehow managed to expel his anger and confuse him at the same time. Then she bumped his shoulder, which only managed to confuse him further as a feeling settled in his stomach, one he associated with flying insects.

"I'm not knocking you, yeah? You're brilliant, you are." She was right, he was brilliant. That strange feeling died down as his ego sprang to the front. A smug smile played over his lips. "You're a genius at solving murders and finding serial killers, but this," she glanced at her notebook briefly before returning her gaze to him, "'s different."

His eyes traveled to her notebook. That need to prove himself rose up.

"I think you'll find," he replied, snatching her notebook and leaping off the barricade in one swift movement, "I'm brilliant in other areas as well."

"Hey!" she exclaimed, jumping off the barricade, intent on getting her notebook back, not that he would likely understand what it was, but if he had even the slightest idea that could be very dangerous.

Sherlock looked over the diagram while dodging her. A device of some sort. The entire drawing done in pencil, bits erased and then new areas created. Had she done this herself? He lifted it up as she made a jump for it. She must have. It was impressive, the detail, meticulous. When he was sure he had the full diagram in his mind he stopped the game and allowed her to take her notebook back.

"You can't just-" she snapped.

"Shut up. Let me think," he interrupted.

Rose paused, quirking her brow. _Let him think? _Did he actually understand her diagram of the dimension cannon? That would be bad, really really bad, but then what if he could help? No, he was Sherlock Holmes. The world's only consulting detective. She still couldn't believe the man she'd run into three time, well, four counting today, was Sherlock Holmes and not a fictional character, but actually real.

She'd been having breakfast a few weeks back when she found out. Sitting at a table in Torchwood with Jake. He sat the paper down he'd been reading and she glanced at the picture. Then she paused, turning the paper around to get a better look and there was the bloke she'd seen rummaging through a skip, inspecting graffiti, and stalking his friend. _Internet Phenomenon. _She asked Jake who the bloke was and he replied, _haven't you heard of Sherlock Holmes?_ Once she stopped laughing she found out that it wasn't a joke. The famous detective was real along with Dr. John Watson. Real and, at the moment, quite rude.

His eyes shot to hers with enough force to surprise her.

"You need a connector," he said.

Her brow hiked back up.

"A what?" she asked, not entirely sure what he was talking about.

"Here," he replied, stepping over to her and reaching for her notebook. She kept her hand on it as he raised it and indicated the diagram. "This is the power source." He glanced at her and she nodded, not sure how he worked that out. "You've got wires connecting it to these two areas, but you're missing one connecting those areas together."

Her eyes widened.

"Oh, my god! You're right. You're absolutely right!"

A smug smile appeared, but froze when she turned her gaze on him, a smile unlike any she'd graced him with and unlike any he'd ever seen lit up her eyes. Yes, that was exactly what it did. Wide and full of light and…_beautiful_. Before he could banish that thought to a very dark unused part of his mind palace she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him…tightly, resting her chin on his shoulder and still smiling. Neither his hands nor his arms had any idea what to do and he was fairly sure his entire mind short circuited because there wasn't a single thought.

"You're gorgeous!" she exclaimed and that, for some reason he couldn't explain, brought his hands to rest on her waist, though his mind, for the first time in a very long time, since childhood most likely, was completely and utterly useless. A moment later she pulled out of the embrace. "I have to get back, but thank you! Really! I'm just…" she beamed. "Thank you!"

Then she was dashing across the street, disappearing from view before his mind began to function again. He stood there, and anyone who looked at him might've thought he was scowling, but really he was completely and utterly confused.

* * *

Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	5. Flats

"An accident then," Lestrade said, running a hand through his hair as he stood in the hall facing Sherlock while police milled in and out of the flat. "Are you sure?"

Sherlock shot the Inspector his best _don't be an idiot _look.

"Unless you plan on arresting the dead man's terrier, then I believe-" he began.

"Sherlock," a woman exclaimed.

Lestrade, the officers, and everything faded into background as he glanced at the speaker, his eyes falling on _her_. He took in the black jacket she wore over a burgundy shirt, black trousers, and trainers, but it was her smile that captured him. She was the only person who ever looked at him like that and, unbeknown to him, her smile was starting to ingrain itself upon him.

"Hello," he greeted, turning to her as she approached.

He didn't even notice that he'd begun smiling the moment he saw her.

"Hello," she replied.

He wasn't entirely sure what to say after the way their last meeting ended, but she didn't seem to be one for awkward pauses because the moment she drew up to him she flung her arms around his neck and pulled him into another hug. His mind stuttered a bit, not as much as before, but he was surprised, though his hands somehow found her waist of their own accord.

Greg watched the display, both curious and stunned. At first he thought the woman must be John's latest girlfriend, but the way Sherlock looked at her…he'd never seen the detective look at anyone like that before. It was as if she was the only person on earth. He knew that look, but seeing Sherlock ware it was…well, something he never believed he'd ever see. He couldn't help the smile that crept out.

"I'm so glad I ran into you," Rose said, pulling back to catch Sherlock's gaze. "I was going to stop over, but I've been so busy with the…device that I haven't had time to thank you properly."

Sherlock gazed into her whiskey colored eyes. There were still sleepless nights, though not as many and she seemed lighter, happier. He felt a rare emotion surge through him, similar to one he received when solving a case, but different. It was there because he had a hand in putting that light in her eyes.

Greg watched the display, his curiosity getting the better of him. He wanted to know just who this woman was and how she managed to put that look on Sherlock's face…one that made him seem…human. He cleared his throat, that being the only thing he could think of.

Sherlock ignored Lestrade's attempt to interrupt them, his hands still on her waist as she'd pulled back from their embrace, but not stepped away and something inside of him didn't want to bring attention to that. The woman, on the other hand, glanced at the Inspector, turning her smile on the other man, something Sherlock found he wasn't entirely pleased with.

"Oh," she said, glancing from the man to Sherlock and back, realizing what she must have interrupted. "Oh. God, I'm sorry." She stepped back. "You're working a case and here I am interrupting you."

"No, no, it's all right," Greg said, returning her smile because it was the sort a person couldn't help returning. "Sherlock's already solved it. Only took him five minutes-"

"Four minutes thirty-eight seconds," the detective corrected.

Greg glanced at him, but he noticed the smile the woman turned on Sherlock who returned her smile, but not with the smug one the detective usually wore. The Inspector smirked. There was definitely something there.

"Right…anyway," Greg replied, looking at her, "I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade."

He offered his hand. She beamed, it was really the only way to put it, making him smile in return as she took his hand and shook it.

"Rose," she said.

Sherlock watched the two, not pleased with the way Lestrade interrupted them, but then she gave her name, something he planned on inquiring about since their last meeting left him wanting to discover more about her. _Rose_. The name suited her. He paused, wondering where that thought came from.

"It's very nice to meet you," Greg said.

The Inspector wanted to find out how the two met and exactly what they were to each other, but one of his men called to him. He excused himself, deciding to question John about the woman later. The doctor seemed to be the only one Sherlock confided in.

"So, you're free then?" she asked, turning her gaze back to the detective after Lestrade walked away.

"I appear to be between cases at the moment," he replied.

"Good," she said, taking his arm as another smile he'd never seen before appeared. One that tucked her tongue into her cheek. "Because I was thinking chips."

"Chips?" he asked, confused.

"Its afternoon and don't worry I'm buying. 'S the least I can do," she replied, misunderstanding his confusion.

He chose not to correct her as they walked down the hall and to the lift. Sitting down to chips would give him an opportunity to learn as much as he could about her and that device he helped her with because he hadn't been able to work out what it was for.

* * *

Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	6. Chips

"So," Rose said, sitting down at one of the tables with Sherlock, each with their own basket of chips, "Should I be worried about some serial killer lose in my building?"

"You're building?" he inquired, having not made that deduction and wondering how he became distracted from realizing it.

She laughed and he found his scowl giving way to a grin.

"I'll take that as a no then."

"No. Mr. Corvan's death was an accident. Tripped over his terrier-"

She glanced at him.

"Little white one with a brown patch around his eye?" she asked, interrupting him.

"Um…" he recalled an image of the dog. "Yes, that's the one."

"Awww, I liked him," she replied, her smile slipping.

"Mr. Corvan?"

"Mitsey, Mike not so much, bit of a tosser," She glanced at him as if she said something wrong, "not that I wanted anything like _that_ to happen."

He laughed.

"The terrier's fine. I believe Lestrade mentioned someone picking him up."

She smiled.

"Good," she popped a chip in her mouth.

Sherlock ate a chip as they sat there. He wanted to ask about the device, but she'd been secretive with the diagram so he knew he had to be careful, least he show too much interest and make her suspicious of his motives.

"It works then," he said after a few minutes.

She glanced at him, smiling in a way that told him she knew what he was referring to.

"Yep," she replied, popping the 'p.' "We've run a few tests. It's not strong enough to do what I need it to yet, but I'll get there."

"You need a stronger power supply."

"Right, been toying with some bits and bobs brought in from…" She paused, glancing at him, realizing she almost revealed too much. "…another source."

Not a lie, but he could tell she was hiding something. He smiled as if he didn't catch her slip.

"That's good then."

"Definitely. Shouldn't be long now."

He watched her, mulling over her words. _Shouldn't be long until what?_ He brought up an image of the diagram, but found he was no closer to working out what it was than he had been before.

"Not long before you can use it to help your friend," he replied, recalling what she said during their second meeting.

Rose glanced at him. Being evasive was one thing, but she was starting to consider Sherlock her friend, especially after he helped her and she didn't want to lie to him.

"Actually, it's to help me," she revealed.

His brows drew together.

"But you said-"

"No, you _thought_ it was to help my friend and in a way it is, but it's more for me…well, both of us actually." She turned her gaze to her chips, picking at them, but he caught the despair in her dark eyes and for a reason he could neither explain nor comprehend a stinging sensation shot through his heart. "I had this friend and we…traveled together." A sad smile played over her features. "We spent two years together and he changed me. Showed me a better way to live my life, but something happened…" She glanced up, catching Sherlock's gaze. The ache in his heart coursed through his body and although he couldn't fathom why he was doing it his hand reached across the table to rest on hers. "We were separated, torn apart was more like it and I…I've been trying to find a way back."

She was leaving. That thought was like a scalpel cutting into his stomach. His hand slid away from hers, but she surprised him by clasping it, holding him there. He glanced at their hands, his brows drawn together in confusion at the act.

"Then the…" he cleared his throat, glancing at her because the words had come out a bit choked. "The device is a means for your return."

He wasn't entirely sure how that could be, but she never lied to him so he believed it to be true. She smiled then, another of those bright smiles and, although he knew she was planning on leaving he couldn't help the slight grin that surfaced.

"Yes. That's what it was designed for."

"When will you go?"

She released his hand, returning to her chips. He couldn't shake the strange sensation that made the chippy seem colder, even though his rational mind told him that wasn't the case.

"Once I work out the power supply could do any day," she replied, glancing at him and she caught the look he wore. She reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze. He glanced at her, confused and she smiled. "I don't leave my friends without saying goodbye."

He returned her smile. _Friends_. He hadn't viewed his thoughts on her until that moment and he realized that, somehow, he'd grown fond of her. Her mobile chimed, interrupting them. She pulled it out, reading off the text. Then she gave him a look that told him she was leaving.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I've got to go."

He stood up with her, planning on walking her out, but she pulled him into a hug. This time his hands wove around her waist, holding her in place. Then she surprised him, something she seemed quite good at, by kissing his cheek and he was fairly sure in that second that lasted an eternity time stopped.

"I'll see you later," she said, pulling back and in the next moment she was out the door, leaving him, once again, unable to do anything other than watch her retreating form.

His hand, subconsciously, reached up to touch his cheek. He knew her first name and where she lived so he could find her again and he would.

* * *

Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	7. Goodbyes

One one-shot to go, but I may continue this in a part 2, not sure yet.

Warning: There are feels ahead...step lightly.

* * *

A week after the Baskerville case Sherlock received a text he'd been waiting for. He pulled his phone out as he stepped into his flat. _Hyde Park North East Corner._ He grinned.

"It's not another case is it?" John asked. "We've just got back from the last and I've surgery in the morning."

He slid his phone back into his pocket, glancing at John, distractedly.

"What? No, no it's not another case. It's…something I've been waiting for."

He stepped back to the door without taking his coat off.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," he replied, closing the door and heading down the stairs.

Nearly two months. That's how long it'd been since he saw her. _Rose_. If that was, indeed, her name. The day after their last meeting he searched the names of all the renters in that building. He only had her first name, but none of the flats were rented to anyone with that name.

She could've been flat sharing, as he did with John so he went through the task of finding out. After describing her to a few tenants he finally located one who rented the flat next to hers. She wasn't home at the time so he went back to the renters' list and located the name. Jackie Tyler. After a quick search he found that Jackie Tyler was the wife of Pete Tyler, better known to the public as the Vitex King for a health drink he invented that made him quite wealthy.

This knowledge only proved to unearth new questions. Why would the wife of a wealthy business man rent a flat for her? There were similarities between the two that made him suspect they were related, but after a search he could turn up neither a mention of Rose nor a photo. At that point he knew he could've gone to Mycroft, but something held him back. _Sentiment isn't an advantage, Sherlock_. He kept those thoughts at bay and went back to her flat.

He hailed a cab, gave the driver the location and then sat back. His mind turning back to his second trip to her flat. She didn't answer, but he used his lock picks on the door. He never was one for patience. One look around the living room and he knew she hadn't been there in a few days. That stinging sensation shot through his heart as a thought struck him. What if she was gone? What if she already used the device? The memory of the chip shop floated through his mind. _I don't leave my friends without saying goodbye_. It was a truth. He'd seen that in her dark eyes.

She hadn't left, but then where was she? Working on the device. Most people would leave at that realization, though most people would've have broken into her flat, but he was there and he knew her flat held answers. He couldn't leave without finding them.

There were pictures on a side table. He walked over and examined them. There was one of her and Jackie Tyler, but Mrs. Tyler wore clothes far below her station. They appeared to be in a Council flat. A second of them with a young toddler he knew to be Tony Tyler at a beach. A third with all three of them along with Mr. Tyler and a man with blonde spiky hair. They stood in a state of the art room, a birthday cake on one of the many desks. Rose was blowing the candles out. She smiled in all of them, but knowing what she told him at the chip shop he wondered how much of that was forced. He knew all too well about hiding things.

He was drawn out of his thoughts as the cab stopped next to the park. He paid the driver and climbed out. It didn't take him long to find her, sitting in the grass, gazing up at the night sky. She didn't look up when he approached, but he knew she noticed him. Noticing things was part of who she was. It was probably one of the reason she intrigued him.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" she asked as he sat down next to her.

He followed her gaze, reminded of a conversation he had with John over the same subject.

"I've always thought so," he replied.

"They're different. Have you noticed?"

He gazed around the sky and realized she was right. There appeared to be a few missing. He might've wrote it off as stars burning out, but there were too many for that to be true. Not so many that anyone outside of the field would notice, well besides himself.

"How is that possible?"

"They're going out. One by one."

The stars were going out. Whether it was possible or not was irrelevant. The proof was in the sky. A primal fear stirred inside of him. He glanced at her and caught her gaze. There was fear in her dark eyes, but something else, it was the same emotion he'd seen in John's eyes when they were on a case that turned dangerous. It was John's hope that Sherlock could find a way out. Her hope wasn't directed at him, but he could see it.

"Can anything be done?" he asked.

"Yes and it's all thanks to you." His brows drew together in confusion. "Because of you the dimension cannon works. The walls between the universes are weak and I can find him. He'll know how to stop it."

"Dimension cannon?" he asked, his mind having paused at her revelation, which didn't make any sense.

"That's the device you helped me with. I'm telling you this because we're friends and because-"

"You're leaving."

She gazed back up at the night sky.

"In two days, yeah."

"You believe your friend can stop this?" he asked, indicating the stars.

He'd seen pictures of her friend in her flat. A man wearing a pin striped suit. He knew the moment he saw the pictures of them, the way she smiled at him, the way he looked at her. It washed an angry, sickening wave through him, something he never felt before and he really didn't know what to do with so he banished it to the far reaches of his mind, far enough away that he wouldn't have to think about it.

"I know he can," she replied, glancing at him with a smile.

"You mentioned walls between universes. What does that mean?"

"Exactly what you think it does. I'm not from here, from this universe. In my universe I was the daughter of Pete and Jackie Tyler, but my dad died when I was little. I grew up without him on a Council estate. I worked in a shop and then I met someone-"

"Your friend," he said, thinking about that picture of her and Jackie.

The idea that she was from a parallel universe was absurd, but he'd seen the picture and even if he didn't believe that, there were the stars to consider.

"So, you're from a parallel world," a statement not a question.

"You believe me?" she asked and he could hear the surprise in her voice.

"So far everything you've told me has been true. I don't believe you'd begin lying to me now."

She bumped his shoulder playfully and grinned.

"I knew I liked you." His eyes found hers as his brows drew together in what most people would consider a scowl, but it only made her grin widen. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Sherlock, I said we were friends, yeah?"

Right. He turned his gaze back to the stars. He wanted to tell her to stay, but he spent too many years keeping things hidden. The words wouldn't come out.

"You're going back to him then."

Rose could hear something in his words, but she wasn't sure what it was, a question, perhaps. _Why? _Is what she thought.

"When I first met him he was alone. He lost everyone he ever cared about and after I started traveling with him I made him a promise. I promised I'd never leave him, but I did. It was an accident, yeah, but I still left," she explained, her voice choking at the end because it still stung.

The idea that the Doctor was alone hurt. He didn't deserve that. Not after everything he sacrificed. He deserved to be happy and after that day on the beach, after she spoke to him she knew that she made him happy and he made her happy.

The sound of her voice breaking reached into some dark, unused part inside of him. His hand found its way to her far shoulder and nothing could've prepared him for what she did next. She leaned toward him, her cheek coming to rest on his shoulder. Her arms wound around his chest, a shuddering sigh escaped her.

"It wasn't your fault," he replied, the words falling from his lips as if they had a life of their own.

"Yeah, but it still happened."

He could hear the way she was trying to gain control.

"You love him," Sherlock said, his voice devoid of emotion, as that scalpel twisted itself inside of him, but she didn't seem to notice and maybe that was best.

She didn't reply, but she didn't have to. He knew, had known for a while and that was fine, at least, that's what he told himself as they sat in the grass under the star strewn sky for what felt like an eternity and no time at all.

"I have to go," she finally said, sitting up.

He dropped his arm, standing up and then helping her to her feet. She gave him a smile that turned watery, confusing him until she spoke.

"I'll miss you, Sherlock."

The thought that she would miss him, stunned him and for a moment all he could do was stare at her, but she didn't wait for a reply. Instead, she flung her arms around his neck and he found himself hugging her back.

"I will miss you Rose Tyler," he whispered into her hair.

She laughed, which told him that she heard him and he couldn't stop the smile from forming even though she was leaving, even though he would never see her again. When she pulled back she gazed at him a moment. Then she reached up and brushed something from his cheek, something he hadn't even noticed. He closed his eyes at her touch, then it was gone and night became a bit colder.

"No tears now," she insisted, making him realize what she must have brushed away, which proved to both confuse and unnerve him, but then she was smiling and for that moment he forgot. "Wish me luck."

Then she pulled away and began her walk back to wherever she came from. He watched her for a moment and, although he knew it was selfish, he found that he could not wish her luck in any endeavor that would take her away from him. After a few moments he turned and headed back to Baker Street feeling that the world had someone become darker and knowing it wasn't for the missing stars.

* * *

Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	8. Second Chances

Sherlock walked along the dark street toward the hospital, making sure to keep out of sight. Moriarty's end game was Sherlock's death. He knew that now, though he supposed he knew that all along. Part of him wanted to give in to it, wanted to for a few months, but there was Moriarty's criminal web to think about. That had to be dealt with. He had to make sure the people he cared about were safe, protected.

His pocket chimed and he wondered who would be texting him. John, likely, since he walked away saying he had to take care of something. He pulled his phone out and paused. It was _her _building. The text was sent by one of his homeless network. He didn't call off the search from last time, but…it couldn't be _her_. She was gone.

He wasn't too far from her flat. There were things he needed to do, steps that must be put into place tonight, but he made the decision almost without thinking. He slid his phone into his pocket and ran.

* * *

Rose walked into her room and changed into her jimjams. Her mum came over and insisted on taking her down to the chippy on the corner and she'd gone, even though she didn't want to because she couldn't let them worry. Couldn't let anyone know how close she was to the edge.

So, she went, listened to her mum talk about a coming out party. Something to do with letting everyone know who she was and some story they concocted about having been off at boarding school and how her dad would take care of all the necessary documents. When she was ready, but her mum talked about it as if she ought to be ready now, but it'd only been a few weeks. _You're going to need documents, a past, but that's a good thing, sweetheart. It means we'll be together._

Rose sighed as she flopped down on the bed, not even bothering with the covers because, really, what was the point? She didn't see much point in anything anymore. After what she went through to find the Doctor, to get back to him and he just…left. Then the new Doctor. What happened to him was something she knew she'd see in her nightmares probably for the rest of her life. To watch him die like that and there was nothing she could do. He just…burned up minutes after the TARDIS vanished.

She sighed, rolling over to face the wall as she pulled her knees up, wanting to close her eyes, but not daring because when she did she saw it, all of it happening again. Her mum tried to insist on her staying with them, but she couldn't. She knew her mum meant well, but she couldn't stand to hear one more word about the Doctor or what happened and that was all her mum wanted to talk about at first, well, yell about was more like it.

She heard someone drop down on her balcony, heard the door slowly open, but she didn't even care to turn around. If someone was there to murder her she'd almost welcome it at this point. At least she wouldn't have to think about that bloody beach again.

Sherlock saw her, lying on the bed, facing away from him. He watched the steady rise and fall of her breathing and knew she wasn't sleeping. The air seemed to permeate with a sense of despair and that was enough to move him slowly, but steadily across the room.

"Rose?" he asked, quietly as he drew up beside her bed.

The sound of his voice was able to do something both of her parents had been trying to do for the past few weeks. It lessened the ache in her heart. She turned around and the sight of him brought fresh tears to her eyes. He was beside her then, wrapping his arms around her.

Sherlock couldn't explain why he was overwhelmed by a need to comfort her. It wasn't something he did. He was more inclined to push those feelings to the far reaches of his mind, to a dark unused place he never accessed, but she, somehow, managed to reach into that place, to draw those feelings out.

He found his hand stroking her blonde hair as she cried. His mind, that usually kept him out of these situations, had gone uselessly blank.

"He left me," she finally managed through a choked sob.

"Then he's an idiot," he replied before he could stop himself, his better judgment having taken leave along with his mind.

A sobbing laugh escaped her, but it was belated as her tears continued to fall. He knew it wasn't right and he'd never openly admit it, but he couldn't help feeling glad that she was back, that she was there, even with the loss she felt. Then he remembered that he was leaving and his happiness was short lived.

"Why?" she asked.

He knew she was referring to her friend leaving her. It was a question he couldn't answer so he remained silent, tightening his hold around her. After a few minutes her sobbing died down, but she didn't pull away.

"We did it," she continued, almost as an afterthought. "We stopped the stars from going out."

"I noticed, but no one remembers."

For a few weeks after she left there were news articles about the stars disappearing. It was everything anyone talked about and then they returned and it was as if it never happened. When he tried to search the news articles to prove to John that it was real he couldn't find them.

She pulled back then and gazed at him.

"I know. Only me and mum, and dad remember, but I think that's because we've all crossed the Void."

"The Void?"

"'S the place between universes. The Doctor, that's my friend, he calls it hell."

"But I've never crossed the Void."

She smiled then and he found himself brushing away her tears, almost subconsciously.

"You're mind's different. Special," she explained, giving him pause as he caught her gaze unprepared for the pain radiating from her dark eyes, like a deep laceration, pain he felt once before and the sight worried him. "You see things that others don't and you remember them."

"I don't want you to be alone," he said, the words tumbled out of their own accord. Something she seemed to do to him.

"I'm fine. Really."

"No, you're not."

"I'm not alone though," she replied, choosing not to comment on his deduction because he was right. It was as if he could see through her, something she noticed early on. "I've got my mum, dad, Jake…" she caught his gaze, "…and you."

Something in the way she said that made his stomach drop as if he missed a step, but he couldn't be sure if he heard an underlying meaning or if he simply wanted to. There were times when he could read her and there were others, like this one, where he couldn't trust his own judgment.

"I…" he cleared his throat, the word having come out nearly a whisper. "I'm leaving."

He watched it happen and it fairly destroyed him. The way her face crumbled, the pain in her whiskey colored eyes deepening.

"What?" she whispered, but even whispered he could hear the emotion…fear.

He made a decision then. One he knew Mycroft would hate. One he knew might very well get her or both of them killed, but he couldn't leave her like that, even for her own good.

"I assume you haven't read or listened to the news of late," he continued. Her brows drew together in confusion, but she still seemed to hurt to reply. "There's a man, Moriarty." Her expression changed and he knew she recognized the name. "He's managed to make everyone believe that I'm a fraud. That his real name is Richard Brook and I hired him to _play_ Moriarty while I pulled off the crimes and then pretended to work them out."

Rose recognized the name Moriarty. She knew he was Sherlock's arch enemy from the stories. She never read them, having dropped out of school before getting her A-levels and then going to work in a shop after her relationship with Jimmy Stone didn't work out, then traveling with the Doctor, then getting stuck in that parallel universe and spending all her time trying to get back to him. There really hadn't been much time for reading books for fun. She could put two and two together though. If Sherlock was leaving there had to be a good reason.

"He wants to kill you," she deduced.

He smiled, knowing she'd come to the conclusion on her own. It was in her voice. Only she was off.

"He _is_ going to kill me," he replied.

"No," she said, surprising him as that determination he remembered flooded her dark eyes. "We'll stop him. I'll help you."

The fact that she would risk her life to help him stop Moriarty made him, once again, feel as if he missed a step. All he could do was stare at her, something she misunderstood as she continued.

"I know he's dangerous, but he has no idea how dangerous I can be. I've fought creatures that you wouldn't believe and there's no way in hell I'm letting some human, mad or otherwise-" she ranted.

He pulled her into a hug because he had to do something and he very nearly kissed her, something that surprised him, but luckily his better judgment kicked in at the last moment because he knew she wouldn't have taken that well. She returned his hug and he knew she was taking that as his acceptance of her help so he pulled back after a minute.

"He's going to kill me and I have to let him," he put his finger to lips to stop her protesting, "I have to let him _believe_ I'm dead. He's going to use John against me. It's his way. He's going to leave me with no other choice and with him believing I'm dead I can take down his criminal web."

He dropped his finger and she mulled over his words.

"So you've got a way out of it, but you have to leave to stop him, take away everyone who's helping him." He smiled. "How long will you be gone?"

"Long enough for my brother to uncover evidence that Richard Brook is, in fact, Moriarty and for me to find everyone involved."

"I understand," she said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "You're doing it for your friend."

She didn't mention that he was doing it for Queen and country as Mycroft would because she knew his motivation. It was the same motivation she had. He knew if he hadn't already made the decision he would have by then.

"Come with me," he said, revealing the decision he made.

"Sorry?" she asked, her brows drawing together.

"It'll be dangerous."

A grin surfaced at his words, so close to words she once heard from someone else.

"I can handle myself."

He smiled.

"I know."

"When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'll have my brother send a car before he picks me up. If you want to come."

Tomorrow morning? There was Torchwood, but she hadn't been back there since she got back. Jake had been by a few times, but he was busy with assignments. Her parents, well, they wouldn't be happy about it. She couldn't tell them the truth, of course. That she was running off with Sherlock Holmes after he faked his death so she could help him take down Moriarty's criminal network. Wait. Was she actually considering this? She caught Sherlock's gaze as he waited for her answer. No, she wasn't because she already knew the answer.

"I'd love to come with you," she said, throwing her arms and his neck and hugging him.

Sherlock pulled her close, burying his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of strawberry that clung to her golden locks. She was back and this time he didn't have to lose her. Tomorrow Moriarty would take everything away from him, everything except for her. She would be the light in the dark times that lay ahead. He couldn't help grinning at the way he knew Mycroft's stomach would turn at that thought.

* * *

Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**

**Part 2 is up...Moments Between Time  
**


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